Chancellor's Parashah Commentary

Given the complex nature of religious life, how can we most
effectively communicate religious instruction? This question occupies
rabbis, educators and parents alike. While the Torah contains
no explicit discussion of educational methodology, the attempt
to transmit religious teachings goes back to our earliest history
and is the central theme of the series of parshiyot before
the High Holidays.

The book of Deuteronomy, on some level, is an extended exercise
in pedagogy. Moses, grudgingly accepting that his leadership is
coming to an end, is deeply concerned that the lessons he is trying
to impart might not be internalized after he dies. He delivers
several discourses, reviewing the nation's history and stressing
the observance of particular mitzvoth.

This week's parashah, Ki Tavo, offers a number of
dramatic examples of religious instruction with implications for
those of us who seek to transmit religious teachings today. I
would like to explore several of these and to comment on their
present-day relevance.

Ki Tavo begins with the ceremony of the first fruits,
which was to occur after the Israelites entered the land. Each
of the Israelite farmers, upon presenting his fruits, would recite
a brief summary of the sacred history, focusing on the descent
of the patriarchal family to Egypt, the suffering they endured
there, the exodus of the nation and their arrival into the land
God is giving them. Nachmanides points out that the farmer is
giving gratitude to God with the specific fruit he brings, acknowledging
at that moment that God has fulfilled the promise of the land
(Ramban on 26:3). The gratitude is crystallized by the concrete
offering of the fruit. One has to imagine that the engagement
of the senses engendered by the fruit, as well as the recitation
of the narrative by each farmer, served to reinforce the encapsulated
national history. The farmers who had not directly experienced
the initial events, nonetheless, were able to internalize their
significance. Moreover, these events became part of their history
as they offered the fruits of the land. It is not surprising that
these verses constitute the core of the Pesah seder, which is
a quintessential multi-sensory event aimed at instilling an appreciation
of our shared history.

The Israelites are next instructed that when they enter the
land, they are to create two sets of stones lined with plaster:
one to be deposited on the far side of the Jordan; and the other
on Mt. Ebal, near Shechem. On the stones, they were to inscribe
"this Torah," which Rav Shmuel ben Meir interprets to
mean all of God's principles, and may well refer to the blessings
and curses that were to be uttered from Mt. Gerizin and Mt. Ebal
(Rashbam on Deuteronomy 27:8). What is clear is that the stones
were to present a written record that would be a lasting reminder
of God's instruction. Barring the aseret hadibrot, the
Ten Commandments, these written words constitute the first portions
of the Torah to be recorded. For a community coming to terms with
the authority of scripture, the engraving of the stones was an
important part of the process. By commanding that scripture be
written down, Moses intended to ensure that the Israelites would
incorporate its teachings beyond the present generation. The impulse
to write down religious teachings has remained strong throughout
our history. Even instruction that was initially intended for
oral transmission, such as that of the Mishna and Gemara, was
written down, particularly during periods of transition.

The most dramatic event awaiting the Israelites once they crossed
the Jordan, was the recitation of the blessings they would receive
if they observed God's Torah, and the curses they would endure,
if they did not. The tribes are divided into two camps, one standing
on Mt. Gerizin during the recitation of the blessings, and the
other standing on Mt. Ebal during the recitation of the curses.
The Levites then list curses resulting from the abrogation of
specific commandments followed by a catalog of blessings and an
extensive inventory of curses. This litany of curses became known
to the Rabbis as the tochecha, the warning.

The tochecha contains fifty-four verses delineating
the consequences of disobedience. These penalties are varied,
graphic and oddly poetic in their gravity. The people will suffer
numerous plagues, they will be overrun by a heartless enemy, they
will resort to cannibalism. In the morning, they will yearn for
evening, and in the evening, they will yearn for morning. Everyone
will become meshuga, mad, from what he sees.

As an educational method, instilling fear is a widespread practice,
even in our own day. The author, James Joyce, in A Portrait
of the Artist As a Young Man, presented a literal fire and
brimstone sermon, delivered to students in a Jesuit school. It
has some of the same relentless intensity as the tochecha.

But I suspect that many of us resist using fear as a source
of motivation, and may, therefore find this part of Ki Tavo
troubling. When we use fear, we may foster obedience but we are
not likely to create an affectionate bond. The organic connection
between the Israelite farmer and his crops and the historic destiny
of his people, is likely not to be instilled through fear. In
his Mishneh Torah, Maimonides focuses on the difference
between fear and love as motivating factors. He concludes that
while fear may work initially, ultimately love will yield a more
lasting commitment to mitzvot.

In Ki Tavo, we can see the biblical imagination at
work, with the objective of implanting in readers, an awareness
of sacred history and a commitment to the laws that flow from
that awareness. It is noteworthy that, with one significant exception,
we use the methods described in the Torah even today. We try to
create multi-sensory experiences, we write things down, we seize
opportunities to dramatize certain points. And, we hope that those
we try to reach will have moments when they feel like the ancient
Israelite farmer, aware of his history, proud participant in that
history, and grateful to God for the bounty in his life.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Howard Stecker

The publication and distribution of Rabbi
Howard Stecker's commentary on Parashat Ki Tavo is made possible
by a generous grant from Rita Dee and Harold (z"l) Hassenfeld.